


Round the Table Once More

by qwerty



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Community: kinkme_merlin, Crossdressing, Dubious Consent, M/M, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-22
Updated: 2011-01-22
Packaged: 2017-10-14 23:17:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/154560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qwerty/pseuds/qwerty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur wins an unexpected prize.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Round the Table Once More

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Arthur/Merlin blatantly stolen from blindfold_spn
> 
> For leading the football team to big championship winning, captain Arthur is rewarded by the school with new cheerleader Merlin.  
> includes a terrified and virgin pretty Merlin, and an Arthur who coaxes him but is not above getting what he wants with force.  
> kinks: oral/anal, nipple biting and twisting, Merlin's hands bound behind his back, various positions, facial (please no water sports)  
> Bonus for Arthur treating Merlin like his stereotypical trophy-boyfriend (with kisses and fondling in the hallway, making Merlin sit on his lap with the football team during lunch... ect.) and Merlin is too terrified to do anything about it.

"Another toast to the king!" Percival called, jumping onto the table and waving his plastic up of punch in the air. Amid the cheers of agreement several arms reached up to steady him as he nearly slipped and fell on the wet table, and for their pains they were doused in the garish red liquid splashing from his cup as he flailed, raising another eruption of laughter.

"To the only, the undefeated, once and future king of the field!" someone else screamed, and Arthur endured another round of hearty thumps to his back as cups of red, blue and yellow punch were thrust into the air in salute. Arthur was just drunk enough to find it hilarious that they were all probably wearing as much of the punch as they had drunk by now, and conscious enough to realise that they were all probably going to have _amazing_ hangovers, and an even more impressive cleaning bill when they woke up in the morning. He was sure they were never going to get the colours out of these clothes, and possibly even the floorboards.

He'd argued when Bors was mixing the drinks that they didn't need that many colours and it would only encourage people to drink to even greater excess then they would have already done in the first place, and he was right. It was all pretty strong stuff to begin with, and then pretty much everyone had tried all three colours, at least once, and then tried all possible combinations, and then combinations of the combinations, and ... yeah. The only surprise was that no one had died of alcohol poisoning yet.

A minor ruckus at one of the entrances drew his attention, and he finished his purpley-green drink and straightened, idly considering getting up on the bench to see what was going on, then decided he was too lazy to do so.

Just as well; whistles and catcalls followed the centre of the disturbance as it moved towards him, and evidently this was another thing he would have to endure in the name of celebrating their victory in the nationals. The crowd milled about before reluctantly parting in front of him, and Oswald and Ethan pushed their way through, dragging a skinny dark-haired guy in a cheerleader's tight top and short skirt, and wearing a blinding shade of red lipstick smeared over his mouth. Figured. That would be the sort of thing Oswald and Ethan found funny.

"A prize for our champion!" Ethan declared, dragging the guy forward almost into Arthur's lap. He had his hands tied behind him, and Arthur automatically reached out and caught him as he stumbled, then guided him to sit on the bench beside himself. The announcement was met with screams and general applause, his team-mates, especially, hooting and shouting out rude suggestions. Arthur put a hand on the guy's back, out of sight of the others, in what he thought was a reassuring move, and felt a slight tremor.

The effect should have been clownish, what with the gangling limbs, ill-fitting clothes and make-up that should probably be more accurately described as scrawled on than applied, but there was something... Arthur found himself reaching out to touch his face, only to have his fingers slip lightly across the knife-sharp cheekbones and soft skin at the corner of his jaw under his ear as the guy twisted his face away. "Come on, this has gone far enough, stop it, really."

"Oh don't be shy, kiss the champion, there's a good girl," Oswald guffawed, and shoved the guy's shoulder hard, pushing him almost off the bench. Arthur simply grabbed him and pulled him into his lap to prevent further shoving while everyone cheered some more, then realised what a bad idea that had been when his dick, which had started taking a minor interest in the proceedings when he'd let himself stare too long, sprang to undeniable and frankly inescapable attention, pressing against the warm, if bony, weight settled on his lap. "Much better," Oswald approved, because Oswald was the king of bad taste and worse timing, and the guy stiffened - for which Arthur honestly couldn't blame him - and started to breathe a little faster, eyes darting around the approving crowd for help or escape.

Arthur tried to smile in a way that said _I am not a creepy molester even if I am in fact molesting you right now_ , and somehow the guy must have found it believable, because he grimaced, leaned in carefully and gave Arthur a light peck on the cheek, to jeers and catcalls. "There you go, all right; that was very funny, now let me go," said the guy in a disgruntled mumble, cheeks coloured with embarrassment and anger, keeping his eyes turned on the ground and away as Arthur looked him over.

Some rational part of him deep inside said, _we are going to be so screwed tomorrow, and not from the hangovers_ , while everyone continued to yell, "Kiss! Kiss!" and the guy was so familiar, so pretty, that he wanted to ask, _Do I know you?_ and in the end Arthur just pulled his head down and kissed him like he knew he would be welcome, the full lips parting for him readily as he licked at the waxy lipstick.

The cheers and shouts of encouragement receded into a distant dinning as he invaded the warm, wet mouth, and his free hand, the one not holding the guy's head, slid up the long, pale thigh, under the skirt, and found... lace. He was suddenly dizzy with unreasoning _want_ , hips bucking up of their own volition, and the guy gasped into his mouth, panicked "please," and he pulled back, then dropped his head on the guy's shoulder for a moment, panting, but unable to remove his hand from where it was, his fingertips brushing against the edges of lace and silk over warm skin.

They had an avid audience, he collected himself enough to notice, drunk and disorderly and liable to do even more stupid things than they already had. "Play along," he murmured as he pressed his lips against the spot under the guy's ridiculously appealing ears he had touched earlier. "They're drunk out of their heads; they'll pass out soon and not remember a thing afterwards." Also, he remembered to take his hand out from the skirt. The guy relaxed fractionally and gave him a jerky nod of the head.

"Get my pretty cheerleader a drink," he said more loudly, leaning back against the table and spreading his legs wider so the guy could sit more comfortably. Another cup was placed in his hand immediately. "A toast to my lovely reward, everyone!" he called, and raised the cup to the guy's lips. "Drink up!"

"I can't," the guy protested while everyone else tossed theirs down, but allowed Arthur to tip the cup slowly into his mouth, obediently swallowing sip by sip as he watched Arthur with wide, dark eyes until the cup was emptied. Arthur tossed it over his shoulder.

"I do know you," Arthur said softly, for his hearing only. "You always come to watch us at practice." Merlin sighed and went pliant against him. He pulled the guy back against his chest, rubbing his palm slowly over the material over his flat stomach before easing his hand under the tee shirt to tease the nipple he could see standing up through the stretchy material. As the guy sighed and shifted against his still rock-hard dick, he let his other hand roam up the tempting skirt again, sliding up to cup the hard flesh he found leaking through the thin silk.

Several whistles distracted them from their daze; the guy shook his head, as if confused, and tried to twist away from Arthur, tensing again. Arthur bit down irritation and twisted the nipple cruelly, making him cry out, and stood, dragging the guy upright with him.

"All right, everyone, show's over," he said firmly. "I'll retire now with my prize. Enjoy the rest of your night." Everyone slapped his back again and called out increasingly lewd suggestions as he guided the guy through the crowd, but they had mostly started looking for new entertainment, and by the time they reached the exit, closing the door behind them, a new round of drinking songs had started, the gym ringing with the echoes of off-key and off-tempo singing.

Already, the drunken crowd seemed a distant, confused memory. The guy let Arthur lead him through the abandoned hallways for several long minutes, weaving slightly. He'd had only the one cup. Arthur found that amusing for some reason. The guy seemed to start from a dream when they stopped in front of Arthur's room. "Here we are. My room."

"Arthur?" Arthur tightened his grip on the guy's arm, and he looked up sharply at Arthur. He had very blue eyes, under the brighter lights here. "Let me go?"

"There's something about you - it's not just that I've seen you come to watch me play. "I just..."

"Can't put your finger on it?" asked Merlin with a wry, sort of self-deprecating smile. Arthur pulled him into the room and locked the door. The guy backed up, wide-eyed. "Arthur, you can't," and Arthur pinned him against the wall and shut him up with a hard kiss.

"We shouldn't," he tried again when Arthur had to stop for breath. "Seriously, not a good idea now."

"You're mine," Arthur said roughly, not sure why it seemed so urgent. Blood pounded in his temples, in his unsatisfied dick. "I need." He pressed his forehead on the cool wall by the guy's head, thrust shallowly against him a few times.

"Yes, okay," the guy agreed, voice soothing. "Untie my hands, Arthur, I'll take care of it for you, okay?"

He shook his head and took a step back, then before the guy could step out from his embrace, he pushed him down, to his knees. "Your mouth," he choked out, and unzipped himself, groaning as he pulled his aching dick from the confines of his trousers, tangling his fingers through Merlin's dark hair with his free hand. "Go on, suck it."

The guy stared at his dick, flushing, lips parted as his breath came in quick hitches. Arthur simply pushed in, then had to jerk back and grab his dick, squeezing hard to stop himself from coming immediately when the soft, warm lips hesitantly wrapped around him. "Wait," he gasped, taking slow breaths to get control over himself. "All right, do it."

The guy kept his eyes on Arthur's face as he gently lipped at the head and gradually up his length, advancing to delicate kitten licks, until impatient, he dragged Merlin's head forward as he started to take Arthur into his mouth again, heedless of the risk of teeth. Not deeply enough to choke the guy, but firmly enough to get his message across. Merlin's long lashes lowered as he closed his eyes and began to suck in earnest, while Arthur thrust carefully, desperately into the hot mouth stretching around him.

When white spots began to appear in his vision, he pulled out and shot his load all over Merlin's face and neck. The guy sputtered in shock, unbalanced and nearly toppling over. "I don't believe this, you," he said as Arthur yanked him to his feet and attacked his mouth again, licking come from his cheeks and around his mouth and neck between kisses, feeding it to him little by little with his tongue, finishing with the last drop hanging from his left earlobe. Merlin stared at him, and slowly began laughing, shaking his head. "All right, I get it, you toppy bastard, you've marked your territory. Are you done now?"

"No," he said, unsure he was quite himself, strange and detached. He pulled the guy to his bed and pulled the tee shirt off until it got stuck at the bound wrists, and left it there, then undid the skirt and dragged it and the panties down together, pausing briefly when the guy's hard dick popped free of the material.

"Arthur, my shoes," the guy reminded him, and he pulled off the socks and shoes together with the rest and threw them in a corner of the room, pushing the guy to sit further up the bed and make room for him. Then he just stopped and stared for a while, watching as the easy grin faded into uncertainty and a pink flush spread over the pale body. "Are you okay?" He nodded, swallowing. The guy tried smiling again. "Going to take off your clothes and join me, or just sit there and look all night?"

Already his dick was filling again; his body knew what it wanted even if he didn't. He stood and started stripping, mechanically, with a momentary thought to the shower as the punch-sticky clothes came off and were abandoned on the floor. He felt a little light-headed as he turned back to the bed.

"Get these off my hands?" asked the guy hopefully, unfazed by his renewed erection. He turned sideways and wiggled his fingers. "I'm starting to lose a little feeling here."

He did mean to undo the bonds, lifting the rucked-up shirt to check the knots, then he got distracted by the pale expanse of skin, the pert curve of the arse and the shadowed crease between. The guy jumped when he palmed a firm buttock, twisting away quickly. Arthur jerked his hand back, as if he'd been stung.

"Arthur, wait," he said quickly, looking afraid for the first time at Arthur's continuing confusion. "If, if you want to, you need to have some things - to prepare me. I've never, not in this body. Please."

For the first time, Arthur sobered and took stock of the situation, everything he'd done. "No, I. Fuck, what am I doing?" He grabbed the scissors from his desk and cut the guy loose as quickly as he could; the rope was thick, and the scissors were meant for cutting paper. The instant the guy was freed, Arthur set down the scissors and stepped back, keeping his hands raised and in clear view while the guy rubbed feeling back into his hands. "I'm so sorry, what can I, fuck. You'll need, you can just take any of my clothes, ok?" He exhaled and closed his eyes, turning to face the wall he had just taken the guy against. "I don't even know your name."

He jumped when he felt warm hands on his shoulders. So did his dick, damn it. Heedless of his own danger, the guy began rubbing away the tension with strong, skilful fingers. "Come on, Arthur. You do know me. Turn around."

When he did, Arthur was lost again in the familiarity of the depthless blue eyes. They were kissing again, all reason gone in the storm of renewed madness as they fell into bed together, Arthur lying over Merlin and pumping their dicks together until Merlin cried out and spilled onto Arthur first, then sliding lower so he could bite Merlin's nipples and thrust into the tight, come-slicked cleft between Merlin's buttocks. They stumbled into the shower to clean themselves off, and ended up with Merlin opening himself with a bottle of lotion and bracing himself with his back and arms while Arthur attempted to fuck him up the wall, almost. When the desperation and urgency faded some, they spooned lazily in bed, with Arthur's fingers between them feeling the hot, tight skin where his body invaded Merlin's, refusing to move while Merlin flexed and tensed around him, struggling to accommodate him. He tied Merlin to the headboard and sucked him until his jaw was sore and Merlin was sobbing from the relentless stimulation of his softened, oversensitised dick. He hooked Merlin's legs over his shoulders and fucked him again, bending him near double in an attempt to get even deeper, while Merlin tried to push him back for a little reprieve. While Merlin lay exhausted and hurting too much to be fucked, he slicked himself up and pushed down on Merlin's dick, riding him until he spilled again all over Merlin's chest, and cleaned him up by feeding it to him again.

Somewhere in the midst of all this they stopped to drink, to snatch hurried bites to eat, to relieve themselves, painfully, and wash. He even managed to change the bedsheets twice. At least three different people called his cellphone and more knocked at his door. He ignored the messages and calls, shouted at the knocking people to go away, and once Merlin shouted over Arthur at a concerned friend looking for him that he was fine, he was consenting, now go away and leave them alone. And then Arthur made him scream again.

All the while Merlin murmured affectionate curses and angry endearments into his skin, and Arthur ignored the waiting memories in the back of his mind in favour of taking Merlin in all the ways he could think of, because there was an empty space there that told him Merlin had been absent too long, been with others, forgotten him, let him go to others. His throat was dry.

"You bastard," Arthur said at last. Merlin grunted and curled deeper into the blankets he'd wrapped around himself as some sort of defence against Arthur. "Are you all right?"

Merlin opened a bleary eye to glare at him huffing, then closed it again and pulled the blanket over his head. "You always start out treating me like some kind of toy when we meet again. Maybe you should see someone to talk about it."

Arthur looked at the red tooth prints on his hand where Merlin had bitten him when he'd attempted to stifle Merlin's scream, just to see what would happen. "You shouldn't let me do it." The ball of blankets rolled over and bumped into his knee. He put a hand on it and thought briefly of unwrapping the blankets for another round.

Merlin mumbled something.

"Speak clearly, idiot."

The blanket sighed woefully. "I said, I wouldn't let you do it if I didn't like it. Not all the time, but if I haven't seen you for a while, _yeah_ , you thick-headed arse. And right now, the answer is NO," it said, reading his mind perfectly. Arthur laughed.

Just to screw with the minds of the guilty parties who'd gift-wrapped and brought Merlin to him, for the rest of the week after they emerged from his room, Arthur dragged Merlin with him everywhere, kissing and groping him against lockers and in dark corners, and pulled him into his lap to feed him broccoli and carrots at lunch.

Arthur even tried cooing, "My sweet potato," at a cringing Merlin once, and someone promptly lost their grip on their tray and sent a plate of spaghetti flying to splat squarely on the back of Arthur's head. He didn't do it again.

By the following week, even Merlin's friends had turned rather blasé about the displays, and then they didn't see a reason not to continue.


End file.
